The no-go zone because they don’t want us there so we don’t want them here The jungle, the Serengeti except with a few minor details. There were no predators there, only prey. There were no lions only wildebeests and zebras and gazelles and flamingos. But the lions in there cunning absence let us believe we were the predators. They let us hunt and hack each other down and when the deed was done They showed up to collect the still-warm corpses We are the children of the Narm Blind to our consanguinity because consanguinity Is a word that irritates the tongue of the dejected. A word –by the way –that would have kept the femoral artery of Damilola Taylor intact Instead of rupturing and releasing that myrrh that was his lifeline Forcing a ten year old boy to pick a cold concrete stairwell as a final resting place. A stairwell we all knew And we all cursed. We are the children of the Narm The free school meals, the pupil premium, the SEN, the council-estate rejects. We were just a handful of children with liquidated tomorrows Standing amongst many, many others On the assembly line of Tony Blair’s legacy. We are the children of the Narm No longer children, no longer ten years old, No longer blind, no longer helpless.
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